


Small Fry

by deliriumofsorts



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriumofsorts/pseuds/deliriumofsorts
Summary: Frustrated with his height, Ricken enlists the help of his friends to become taller for the umpteenth time.





	

Ricken grumbled, sitting cross-legged in his tent, skimming through the pages of quite a thick and heavy book as fast as he could. It was several hours after dinner, and the young mage couldn't help but think about the odd but tactical plan he was about to execute.

Finally, he found the page he was looking for, and sighed with relief. He stuck his index finger underneath the first word and moved it under each subsequent one as he read along in an attempt to not lose track amongst his frantic mindset. He was taking in every word like a sponge at this point, and was so concentrated in the book, he didn’t notice a certain someone walking into his tent.

“Uh, Ricken?”

Upon hearing his name, Ricken looked up from the book and turned his head around to see Chrom, a bemused expression on his face.

“Oh! Hi, Chrom! Did you need me?” The mage implored, quickly making a mental note of the specific page he was reading and slamming the book shut.

“Well, not exactly. It just seemed that during the announcement at dinner, you were zoned out. Staring into nothingness as everyone else listened. You usually aren’t like this, and I was going to ask why, but now I think I know. You’ve been reading up on methods to get taller. You were so preoccupied in finding ways you didn’t have the heart to listen to me today, am I right?”

Ricken sighed, staring at the floor in shame. “Yes. I’m sorry, sir. I know I shouldn’t prioritize my personal goals over the army.”

Unexpectedly, Chrom laughed, which relieved any anxiety and fear Ricken had in his body. “It’s fine. I know how much you dedicate most of your free time to training and getting stronger for the Shepherds’ sake, so I suppose it’s fair you tend to your own wants and desires as well. Anyways, all I wanted to say is that at the crack of dawn, we will be marching south from camp. An unusual amount of Risen have spawned in that area, thankfully not in the way of any neighboring towns and villages. At this point, we have at least a few hours to get ready. Use that time to get in some practice, or have a short nap if you prefer. I trust you will be prepared when the sun comes up.”

Ricken uttered a few words of assent and nodded as Chrom left, leaving him alone once again, the book the only thing keeping him company.

The fact that the army was going to participate in a skirmish pushed firmly to the back of his mind, he resumed reading, only to find he was quickly developing a disdain for the book.

The merchant who was displaying the book a day prior had stated that despite the book was a compilation of how-to guides more than anything, one of its defining features was a several page guide on how to grow taller, prompting Ricken to buy it without any thought — and now he knew that it was nothing more than a rip-off. The only suggestion he found was to maintain good posture by balancing a book on his head.

Standing up, he took off his hat and placed the book on top of his head, slightly taken aback at just how odd it felt. He extended his arms in an attempt to balance himself even more, one foot in front of the other, as if he was walking on a tightrope.

With bated breath, Ricken slowly made his way towards the entrance of his tent, determined he would make it. The book slightly wobbled with every step, prompting him to walk more carefully, but as he stepped once more, he felt his dreams and ambitions shatter as the book slipped from the top of his head, and with a loud thunk, was now resting on the floor.

He glanced at the book, not sure what exactly he was supposed to feel: he had somehow messed up on doing something as simple as slowly leaving his tent, and shook any negative thoughts of out his head. He picked it up and was about to try again, until a perpetual chipper voice interrupted his intentions.

“Heya, Ricken!” Henry flashed a toothy grin at his friend as he stuck his head in the tent flap. “That noise sounded like it hurt, and not in the good way. You okay?”

Ricken smiled back at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just trying to get taller... again.”

“Really, now! Come to think of it, you’re always trying anything and everything to become taller.”

“Pretty much.” He looked at the book once more, and looked at Henry. “Say, speaking of becoming taller, you don't suppose you have any spells on you to help me get taller, do you?”

The dark mage’s brow furrowed. “I don't think I do. I have a spell for abdominal distention, but that's not the same thing, is it? I guess not,” he added quickly once he saw Ricken’s puzzled facial expression.

Ricken pouted. “That’s kind of a bummer. I was kind of hoping you would.” He placed the book down and glanced at Henry, the exuberant and quite harrowing air about him making it so that Ricken couldn’t be despondent for too long. “Well, if you don’t have a spell for being taller, I’d doubt the other mages in camp would. I guess I’ll go back to sulking. Thanks, anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome! Glad to help, even if I couldn’t really help!” Henry waved as he walked out — only for him to dash right in again, startling Ricken. “Hey! You do realize Maribelle’s up at this hour, right?”

Ricken blinked. “Yes, she normally is, but I don’t see the point of asking her.”

“She might have something to help you get taller. I mean, she’s kind of crazily prepared for everything!”

Ricken glanced at the tent flap in apprehension. “I suppose you’re right. Asking and getting an answer, even if it’s a simple no, is a lot better than just being sad about it.”

With an approving nod from Henry, he went out in search for Maribelle’s tent.

 

* * *

 

“There, there,” Maribelle cooed to her horse, holding an equine brush, “I’m afraid you’ve a long day tomorrow. Hopefully neither of us will get hurt from those blasted barbarians.”

She let the sound of a nearby flowing river relax her mind as she tended to her horse, the equine brush wrapped firmly around her hand gliding through her steed’s hair, repeating the action over and over again.

Unfortunately, she was so caught up in making sure her horse was well-groomed that she did not notice a dyspneic Ricken standing right behind her, his face contorted with worry as he tried to think of the right moment to speak to her without interrupting rudely.

“Alright then, your mane looks quite proper,” Maribelle muttered as she turned around, “and now I suppose you’re all — eek!” She let out a small yelp as she was now aware that there was someone who had been watching her for at least a few good seconds, only for her to come to the realization that it was none other than Ricken himself.

“Oh, good heavens, Ricken!” She had suddenly taken on a much harsher tone of voice as she returned the brush to its rightful place. “You’ve nearly shortened my lifespan by a few years with that — that scare! You could have at least said something before waiting for me to turn around! ...And what's with you being out of breath?”

“Um, I’m sorry, Maribelle,” Ricken said pathetically, “I just didn’t want to interrupt you tending to your horse. And to be honest, I wasn't expecting you to be at the stables instead of your tent at this hour. I ran all around the campgrounds looking for you!”

His response elicited a sigh from the noblewoman. “It’s fine. At least you’ve not the intentions of a lowborn, which I commend.”

“I do have a question for you, though,” Ricken continued. “My recent methods on getting taller have been unsuccessful as of late, and I was wondering if you had anything that could help me out.”

Maribelle crossed her arms. “I’m afraid not even the finest blend of tea I have on hand can help anybody become taller. Staves generally have no other uses except for healing or giving ailments to foes… although I do have something that may pique your interests.”

She had turned to her side to reveal there was a small bag that had camouflaged with the ground, which took Ricken by surprise. She opened the bag and delicately took out a set of boots: it seemed that they were crafted with the finest leather available.

“These,” she beamed, “are one of my most exquisite combat boots. As much as it is a steward’s job, I originally intended to wash them in that river nearby... but it's not that dirty, now, is it? Anyways, if one were to wear them, it would propel them up by a few inches or so — “

“What?” Ricken stuttered. “You're not implying what I think you are, are you? You want me to wear them?”

“Why, of course!”

“I don't think I can! It doesn't make much sense, first of all, and what will people think if they see me wearing, well, _your_ boots?”

“Oh, come off it!” Maribelle huffed. “It will only be for a few minutes right here! And besides, I like to consider this as a favor, dear. Part of the debt I must repay for saving me from those dastardly Plegians two years ago! Yes, while it may be true the boots will not let you become taller permanently, you can, at least for a while, see the world in a, er, new light. Much better than standing on the tips of your toes, yes? What do you say?”

“Well,” Ricken finally said after a long period of silence, “if I can experience what it feels like to gain a few inches in height for a while, I’ll do it. ...Just do know I’ll never do it again.”

“Perfect! Now, go on, slip your boots off. I shall help you put on mine.”

Ricken sighed as sat down on the grass to unstrap his boots, only to find that his feet were being abruptly jammed into Maribelle’s own boots moments after.

“Gah! Maribelle, what happened to _helping_ me put your boots on?”

Maribelle simply ignored his question. “Stand up for me, please.”

He reluctantly did so, only to find that she was right: he was a few inches taller, and even so, still felt dazed and confused in her boots. It was as if one simple movement would lead him to falling over any minute.

“Well? How do you feel? Taller?”

“Definitely taller, yes, but I also feel absolutely ridiculous. This is worse than that one time Gregor stuffed me in a dress during the harvest festival!”

Maribelle stifled a laugh at the mental image of Ricken wearing a dress. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But remember, this is for a good cause! My word, you're nearly as tall as me with those boots, if not taller!”

Ricken swore he heard a subtle tone of derision in her words, but decided to pay no mind to it. “Anyways, let’s get this over with. Can you teach me how to walk in these things so I don’t fall over?”

“Very easy, my dear boy. All you must do is walk heel to toe. Quite self-explanatory, if you ask me!”

“Heel to toe... well, okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

He exhaled, focusing on the ground. He lifted his leg, being careful that the heel of the boot was to hit the ground first, and then the toe of the boot, and slowly but surely began to get the gist of it — only for him to fall over the very next minute, face first into the ground, with multiple scratches and bruises.

Maribelle rushed towards his side, her face brimming with awe. “Ricken, dear, are you alright? It seemed you... misstepped your only step. Here, let me put your boots back on, and I’ll go ahead and mend you right up...”

All Ricken did was groan as he felt the pain withering away and Maribelle’s boots being replaced by his own. “Thanks,” he managed to spew out, slowly rising from the ground and dusting off any dirt that had accumulated on his robes.

Maribelle heaved a huge sigh. “I apologize greatly, dear. I only gave you the boots because I believed I was helping, but I’m going to have to say I really didn’t have anything that could help to begin with.”

“It’s fine, Maribelle. I appreciate that you were trying to help, nonetheless. I guess... I’ll just go back to my tent and sulk some more.”

“Sulk?” she whispered, as if the other had said something flippant. “Oh, please, my dear boy. There is no need for such an act befitted for lowborns! There are others in camp who would be delighted to help you! ...Er, the ones who are awake, that is.”

“Maribelle! You called?”

The two turned around, instantly recognizing the voice to be Robin’s: she was holding a few thick books with such intricate words and topics on their covers that just one glance at them made Ricken’s head spin.

Giving them a friendly wave, she continued on. “I assume this is about you wanting to grow taller, yes?”

“Yes,” Ricken admitted a little sheepishly, “was it that obvious?”

Robin gave him a knowing smirk. “Quite obvious, but I suppose I can help out. I was out for a walk when I passed by Henry, who said you were looking for spells or at least something that could make you taller?”

“...Yes,” Ricken replied curiously as he realized the nature of the question seemed to build up to a hopeful revelation: it was possible that she had an arsenal of anything for him to grow a few inches in height.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve nothing of the sort. No one in camp does, and I’ll be honest, there are no spells to become taller, and the medicines advertised to do so don't work most of the time.”

At that point, Ricken’s hopes and dreams came to a screeching halt. Robin, noticing his dismay, carried on.

“However, that doesn't mean you can't grow taller.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m no healer, but I do know that the proper foods can help in reaching maximum height. Say, milk, for example.”

Ricken’s eyes widened. “Milk?”

“Yes, milk. But you do drink more than anyone else in the army... although if you do keep at it and eat at the mess hall, I’m sure you will see an improvement.”

“...Wow. Thank you, Robin! So I just need to keep doing what I've been doing all this time, and I may just be as tall as Kellam!”

He thanked Robin once again, who was now having a hard time imagining Ricken being awfully tall, and ran towards the plethora of tents, leaving Maribelle to tend to her horse once again and Robin to resuming her walk.

He felt a heavy amount of stress being lifted off his shoulders as he became ambitious once again.

 

* * *

 

A pounding headache was what startled the young mage awake, the world around him spinning.

He winced momentarily as the sun shone across his face, signifying it was the next day. The announcement of a skirmish had suddenly come to mind, blinking as he tried to recover from his vertigo. An uneasy feeling crept up on him as he realized that he was not in his tent, but rather the barracks. Multiple small bottles of milk were littered across the floor, along with a small wooden bowl that smelled of vegetable soup.

Ricken was now queasy at the thought of consuming so much milk and soup in what seemed to be little time last night, and nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard footsteps coming towards his general direction: it was Chrom, as per usual, a bemused expression on his face once again.

“Ricken!” he exclaimed, a tinge of despair in his voice. “I was nearly going to gather a search crew if I didn’t find you here! But, anyways... er, you don’t look very well,” he gawked at the poor boy who was sitting at the corner of the barracks.

“I’m really sorry, Chrom,” Ricken exhaled, giving the milk bottles and bowl a quick once-over, “I was merely trying to — well, I think you must know at this point. Robin said a proper diet can help in growing taller, and... I’m not sure what exactly happened. ...Hysteria-induced milk drinking, perhaps.”

Chrom nodded. “Well... at least you didn’t go and drink anything else. However, given the state you are currently in, you’ll have to be exempted from today’s skirmish.”

Ricken groaned. “Yes, sir.”

“Lissa has decided to hold down the fort while we are away. You can notify her if you feel worse. We will be back before noon, so I beg of you, take care and feel better.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He watched as Chrom left the barracks, disappearing into the fields where everybody else was waiting.

Silence filled the room once again, and Ricken got up to stare at a small bookshelf he acquired for the barracks when he had first joined the army.

He smirked. At least he was taller than that.


End file.
